Shrouded
by xxFalling-Angelsxx
Summary: When yet another string of violent murders begin to arise in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills, the new girl is instantly faced with suspicion. Local werewolf, Scott McCall, is the only one who seems to think she's innocent... Unofficial town detective, Stiles Stilinski? Not so much. (Stiles X OC. Takes place between season 2 and season 3a. Rated T for intense violence) HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Hope you enjoy this story! Samira is an Aswang, which is a shapeshifting creature who takes the form of a dog. To survive, an Aswang must feed off pregnant mothers, children and unborn children. They must hunt every night or they become weak, and their eyes are bloodshot from spending all night out hunting. And ****_yes, _****she is the one doing the killing. Read up on an Aswang! WARNING: This story contains graphic violence and takes place in the four months after season 2. Samira's faceclaim is Lucy Hale. Enjoy!**

* * *

A series of groans and snarls broke through the barrier of sleep, awakening the slumbering young man from his deep sleep.

"Hon'? You right?" he murmured sleepily. When his pregnant bride-to-be said not a word and made not a sound, he sat up. "Alexia?" he whispered, squinting in the dark. No answer. He took a hold of Alexia's shoulder and shook it gently. She didn't move or acknowledge his presence. When the man drew his hand back, it came back sticky. The bedsheets were wet, had her water broken? He began to panic, fumbling for the lamp on his bedside table. His fingers closed around the three-turn knob. He turned it once, twice, three times. The dim light filling the room allowed him to see what had upset his expecting fiancée. His blood froze cold in his veins and his mouth opened in a silent scream of terror. The pale skin of Alexia's stomach was pulled back into two flaps, giving the young man an utterly disturbing look into the content of her stomach. Where an almost-fully-developed baby should've been, there was a gaping hole, filling with blood by the second. Alexia's lower stomach and intestines had been shredded to ribbons. Only then did the man realize that the dampness of his sheets was made by _blood. _He was sitting in a puddle of blood from his now-dead fiancée. He fumbled for the cellphone at his bedside table, swiping to the _emergency call._

"911, where's your emergency?" the monotone-voice of a young woman filled his speakers.

"My, my girlfriend! She… Someone killed her! She was pregnant!" the man sobbed.

"Sir, calm down. Did you see the killer?"

"No, I was asleep," he answered quickly, voice shaking.

"Where are you now?" the woman asked.

"I'm in my house, in my bedroom."

"Sir, stay right where you are, police will be there shortly to inspect the house and see if the killer is still inside," the woman assured. That's when he saw it. A trail of bloody marks led to his open bedroom door. When he squinted closely at the marks, he saw they were not footprints, but _pawprints._

* * *

Stiles rubbed his eyes, yawning. He'd been up all night doing research. A pregnant mom and three newborn infants had all been murdered in the past week, and something was up. Each home where the infant had resided, a log or piece of wood intricately carved to look like the victim had been placed in the puddle of blood that belonged to the victim, and most of the time, pawprints had been found at the scene. As he always said, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, then three's a pattern. Stiles had done Bing, Google and Yahoo searches for _murdered infant, carved wood, _and he'd come up with next to nothing. He'd began to have his suspicions, but it had only been a few weeks since Jackson moved to London, how many supernatural things could happen in such a small block of time?

Stiles had been watching _her_ for a few minutes, closely studying the new girl.

"You checkin' out the newbie?" Scott questioned, taking a bite of his pizza.

"It just seems suspicious. She shows up and suddenly babies are being murdered out the wazoo?" Stiles snapped, not taking his eyes off the girl, who was sitting by herself, he noted. She pushed a piece of her dark brown hair behind her ear, scribbling furiously on a notepad.

"Stiles, new people come to this school all the time. She's not a murderer," Scott shrugged. "Just leave her alone, there's nothing suspicious about her."

"We'll see…" Stiles muttered. Grabbing his tray, and a handful of fries off Scott's, Stiles went to the girl. She was hunched over the notepad, pen in hand, writing quickly and sloppily. She startled when Stiles sat down next to her, shoving the notepad under her arm. Stiles' eyebrows shot into his hairline, suspicions rising.

"What'cha got there?" he nodded at the notepad.

"Nothing. You just scared me, that's all," the brown-haired girl answered. Stiles shrugged.

"You're the new girl, right? I'm Stiles," he flashed her a grin.

"I'm… Samira," she replied, her green eyes narrowed at him with suspicion.

"You hesitated," Stiles popped a fry into his mouth.

"Would you hesitate if a total stranger comes up to you and starts getting in your space?" Samira hissed. Stiles was taken aback. Up close, he noticed the red veins of her eyes were more prominent than they should've been.

"Sorry for all the questions," he rolled his eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm _fine," _Samira gritted her teeth. "Just feeling a little… Sick… That's all," she sighed. Stiles could tell this girl was uncomfortable being near him.

"No offense, but you're more than just sick," Stiles snapped. "Your eyes are all red," he pointed.

"Maybe my eyes are red because I'm stressed as hell," Samira growled. Stiles detected an odd note in her voice, like the sound when you press your pen too many times. When Stiles was silent, Samira got to her feet and stormed off, snatching up the notepad before Stiles could read what it said.

* * *

Stiles jingled his keys in his hands, moving easily past the reception desk to his dad's office. Said person was hunched over his desk, writing something down on what looked like a police report.

"Another dead baby?" Stiles' said the words with ease, already expecting the answer. His dad looked up at him, worry lines creasing his face.

"Two, actually, plus the mother," he sighed. "I think we've got a deranged serial killer on our hands."

* * *

Samira slammed the door to her small apartment, throwing her bag down on the table and running a hand through her hair. That boy from earlier had really irked her, asking all those _questions. _It was almost as if he _knew _of her Aswang bloodlines. Samira, grumbling to herself, flopped on her bed and grabbed the remote off the bedside table, turning on the small TV.

"Two unborn children bruta—" the TV broadcaster began.

Samira clicked off the TV, sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. She couldn't _help it, _she had to eat or she'd die, and she couldn't help what she'd been born as. Her mother had told her from the day she was born, guilt would _always_ be a permanent factor in her life. Samira didn't want to kill people and children who had so much to live for, but it was her nature. _Hunt or die._

* * *

The pregnant mother and her young daughter walked along the sidewalk, grinning. The single mom had taken her daughter to see a movie, it'd been a long time since either of them smiled, since they'd been happy. Her daughter's laugh faltered, but she remained smiling none the less. The woman looked in front of her to see what had caused her daughter's giggling to cease. In front of them stood a massive, black dog. It fully resembled an Irish wolfhound, except for its glowing red eyes. The gums of the beast were pulled back into a vicious snarl, revealing rows of bloodstained teeth. It let out a low, rumbling growl, with an odd note of clicking, like the sound of a pen, faintly heard.

"Puppy," her daughter began to giggle again, moving toward the terrifying animal. Before the pregnant mother could blink, the black dog was on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The dog's hot breath skidded across her face. The dog sank its fangs into her stomach. The woman screeched, trying to shove off the animal, but it was no use. Warm blood pooled on the pavement, surrounding the mother. The dog ripped into her, tearing the skin from her body. Her daughter was screaming louder than she, an earsplitting shriek. The woman felt an agonizing pain and a sharp tug in her stomach before she blacked out.

* * *

Her vision was blurry, very blurry. Her ears rang with the screams of her daughter. The woman blinked, once, twice. A nurse stood above her, frowning.

"The morphine didn't last long as it ought to have…" she mumbled. She shook her head, a cheerful smile brightening her face. "Teresa, you're in the hospital. Do you understand?"

Teresa nodded. "What happened?" she murmured quietly. The two words sent a shock of pain throughout her entire body.

"You were attacked on the street by an animal. Your daughter is safe…Your baby…" the nurse frowned again. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I… I was walking home with my daughter… And there was this _dog…" _Teresa's memory came flooding back, images of the terrifying beast permeating her mind.

"A dog? What did it look like?" the nurse's eyebrows raised.

"It was _massive. _It looked like an Irish wolfhound… It seemed normal… Except for its eyes…" Teresa trailed off. The nurse's interest seemed piqued.

"Eyes? What about its eyes?"

"They were red. They were _glowing red."_

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed! Love it? Hate it? Lemme know, drop me a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**One review? I'll have to change that with this amazing chapter! 3. Keep in mind guys that this is a completely different type of story, it takes place during the time between s2 and s3, so I'm new to this kind of fanfiction writing. Nonetheless, enjoy! WARNING: Extreme violence. If you have any questions about an Aswang, let me know, please!**

* * *

The massive dog lurked in the bushes just outside the hospital. With the killings popping up all over the news, most pregnant mothers had either moved out of Beacon Hills or had cops stationed outside their homes. The only place left for the young Aswang to go was the Beacon Hills Hospital. There were few cars in the parking lot, only about seven, all belonging to nurses. Taking a breath, the dog stalked from the bushes and into the hospital. The nurse at the desk was oblivious, earbuds jammed into her ears, eyes closed. The dog quietly trotted past the desk and down the hall. She had her target in her head, the woman from last night. She would kill her, and then she would run to the nursery, if she could make it that far. Oh, but she had a plan. If any more killings sprang up, they would be hunting _her_ and nowhere would be safe. She needed to _blend, _act as if she wasn't the one doing the killing. She slunk along the wall on the second floor, knowing _exactly _where she was headed. She poked her head around a corner, the hall was empty. Abandoning any caution she'd had .5 seconds ago, the dog sprinted quickly down the hall and took a sharp right, claws skidding on the tile floor. The woman was asleep. The dog turned to the door, nosing it shut behind her. After a quick glance around, the dog's form blurred and flickered. When it stopped, in the place of the dog was a girl. She grinned maliciously, turning to the locked cabinets behind her. Marching over to them, she gave the handle one, sharp tug and it flew open, splintered wood scattering on the desk. Samira reached in, pulling out a scalpel. She turned back to the woman, placing her free hand over her mouth. The woman's eyes snapped open to stare wide eyed at Samira, whose eyes were glowing red as blood. Without so much as blinking, Samira dragged the scalpel across the woman's throat. The woman gasped, blood gurgling up from her lips. Samira took her hand, placing the scalpel in it and closing her fingers. Samira moved the woman's hand to her slashed throat before washing her hands with soap and drying the drain. She quickly shifted back to her dog form before poking her head out of the door. An empty corridor greeted her. Taking a deep breath, she nudged open the door, closed it back and began running. She took two more lefts and ran up a flight of stairs, barely avoiding a nurse. The nursery was empty of nurses and doctors, surprisingly. The Aswang knew her time was little and that she had to make it out before she was caught. She sprang toward the first baby on her left, smashing the glass around its head and killing it with a simple bite to the throat. Blood welled around her jaws. She tore into it, making sure to consume what she needed before turning and leaving the dead child in a pool of its own blood and organs.

* * *

Of course he had a class with _her_.

Of course she was_ late_.

And of _course _the only available seat was at the desk _right next to him._

Samira groaned silently. She vowed to stop hunting so late. Because of her extra-long spree last night, she'd overslept and the only available seat was next to Skittles, or whatever he said his name was. She sat down, dropping her jacket onto her chair. Samira began scribbling information from the board into her notebook, praying that he wouldn't try and talk to her.

"Psst," a voice hissed quietly. _Hell. _

"What?" Samira whipped her head to the side, giving Skittles the fiercest glare she could muster.

"Uh… What happened to your neck?" Skittles pointed at the red line along the right side of Samira's neck. She'd tried to hide it with makeup, and she'd done a damn good job, except for the small scratch at the base of her neck. Looking at it, you'd pass it off as nothing until you looked closely, then you could see it. Samira's eyes practically bulged out of her head.

"Did you seriously just ask me that question?" she snapped. Stiles' flicked his eyes around. Someone kept clicking their pen. Samira had already thought of a lie in case her makeup wasn't enough. After leaving the hospital, Samira had run into the animal control officers last night, and they'd come equipped with catchpoles. If she hadn't torn through the rope, they'd have killed her.

"Yes, I did, now you can answer it," Skittles snapped back. The pen stopped.

"I had a friend over last night," Samira whispered. The pen again. "There. Now will you leave me alone?"

"No," Skittles shrugged. "What's up with your eyes?"

"I told you, I had a friend over. I didn't exactly get a lot of sleep," Samira lied.

"What's your name again?" Skittles' eyebrows raised.

"Samira," she rolled her eyes. "You're Skittles, right?" she didn't look up from her paper. She heard the Latino boy sitting next to Skittles snort and her lips curved into a small smile.

"It's _Stiles," _he corrected. "I'm Scott," he added when she furrowed her brow in confusion. His words weren't the reason. It was his _scent. _She couldn't put her finger on it, but it bothered her.

"Good to know," Samira mumbled, turning away. She heard Stiles and Scott whispering, but she didn't care enough to tune her ears to hear it. She caught them giving sideways glances at her and speaking in hushed tones. Her eyebrows arched. _Now _she cared.

"Stiles, are you insane?" Scott hissed.

"No, I just think something weird is going on," Stiles shrugged. "I mean, ever since Peter bit you, things have been weird around here, too weird. I mean, she moves here and then babies start dying? Does that not scream _suspicious _to you?" Stiles rambled. _Bitten? _Samira thought. That's when it hit her.

_Werewolf._

* * *

Samira sat by herself again, practically ignoring her food in favor of a book she was reading. The book looked thousands of years old, almost like it was about to fall apart. Samira had immersed herself into the seventh chapter when two figures sat down on either side of her. Samira looked up, eyes blazing. _Stiles and Scott. _

"Yes?" she muttered, giving the two of them a sideways glare.

"We just wanted to welcome you to Beacon Hills!" Scott grinned. Samira raised her eyebrows.

"Doesn't seem so," she commented, raising her eyebrows. When she turned back to her book, Stiles exchanged a glance with Scott.

"What're you reading?" Stiles pointed at the book.

"A book my mother gave to me," Samira stated bluntly. "Why do you care?"

"Just being friendly," Stiles snapped sarcastically. Samira tsked her tongue, shaking her head.

"Mhm," she murmured. "Nice chat boys, but I have to run," Samira abruptly stood up and briskly walked away, leaving Scott and Stiles dumbfounded.

* * *

"Scott, how can you not see it?" Stiles hissed.

"What? That we're obviously talking to a girl that doesn't want to be talked to?!" Scott growled. "Stiles, she's not a murderer! And remember what your dad said? The prints found at the scene were _canine prints," _Scott sighed.

"But Scott, _think about it. _Laura Hale could turn herself into a wolf, what if this killer can do the same thing?" Stiles flailed his arms, glaring at Scott.

"She didn't smell like a werewolf," Scott pointed out, giving Stiles a triumphant and sarcastic smile.

"But Derek said an alpha can mask their scent from other werewolves," Stiles returned Scott's smile with an even more sarcastic one of his own.

"Stiles. She's not a murderer! There's something else going on," Scott snapped, ending the conversation abruptly.

"Something else…" Stiles echoed. "_Something else."_

* * *

**Love it? Hate it? Lemme know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**:3 Hello there, my lovelies! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I've been struggling on where to go with this for a while, but I think I've got it now! :)**

* * *

The seventeen-year old leaned over a leather-bound book, her doe-shaped brown eyes were bloodshot and half-closed. She'd spent all night transferring pages from her grandfather's book to the internet and back to the book and come up with next to nothing. She'd bookmarked a few key pages, but there was one page she'd had her eye on. She flipped to it, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the page, one of the few pages _not _written in Archaic Latin.

"Aswang…" she whispered, the word foreign on her tongue.

* * *

It was around three AM when the bell on the top of the swinging glass door jingled, drawing the attention of the veterinarian. He looked up slowly, his voice as calm as his expression.

"You may have missed the sign. We're closed," he stated. The girl stormed over to the stainless steel table the vet stood at.

"I need help," she growled. "Are you Allan Deaton?"

"I am," he shrugged, furrowing his eyebrows. "You are?"

"I'm Samira. I know you deal with the supernatural. I need your help," the girl gripped the edges of the stainless steel table, a wave of nausea washing over her.

"I'm not sure I understand…" Allan trailed off, tilting his head slightly.

"What do you know about Aswangs?" Samira locked her green eyes with Allan's brown.

"An Aswang, a shapeshifting vampire-like creature from Filipino folklore. It's usually depicted as a ghoulish were-dog, which is where the word comes from. Ang Aso, meaning _the dog_ in English. Aswang is derived from the Sanskrit words, _swan and ang. _Shwan meaning dog and ang meaning body. They take the form of a dog at night, eating unborn fetuses and small children. If an Aswang goes without eating, he or she will grow progressively weak until they feed again, and if they go too long without eating, they'll die," the vet rattled off the information off the topic of his head, folding his arms.

"Is there any way to reverse er…The… Death process?" Samira broke her steely gaze away from the vet to stare at the floor. The question hit Allan like a splash of cold water. Sucking in a deep breath to keep his composure, he blinked at Samira.

"Any Aswang would carry vampire genes," Allan began. "Vampires die if they don't drink blood for a certain amount of time. An Aswang will die if they don't feed. Eating dead or unborn animals could prolong the life of an Aswang, but it certainly won't satisfy natural cravings or physical needs," the vet sighed.

"How long could an Aswang survive on animals?" Samira asked quietly.

"A couple weeks before natural cravings begin to take over. If an Aswang can fight their natural cravings, they'll last about three to six months on animals before they die," Allan's eyebrows raised as he spoke. "May I ask why you have such a dark interest?"

"Not an interest," Samira shook her head. "An urgency," she whispered. Allan chuckled.

"I had a feeling about you," a small smile lifted the corner of Allan's lips. "I don't think I'm the only one." Samira's eyes flew up to his, they were blown wide with fear.

"Y-You know Stiles?" she gasped.

"I know Scott as well," Allan nodded.

"You _can't tell him. _Not until I find a way to get out of Beacon Hills," Samira pleaded. "_Please. _I came here looking for help… Not my death signature."

Allan's smile fell. "I won't tell Scott…" he began. "On one condition."

"Which is?" Samira's dark eyebrow arched.

"You agree to let me help you. I don't want to see you die, but I don't want you killing anyone else. If you feel cravings, come to me," Allan stated, arms still folded across his chest.

"You've got a deal."

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter! I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter should be up soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Everyone has been so sweet in their reviews! 3 Love you guys! The first scene takes place right after the first scene in the last chapter. 3! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_Bzz._

_Bzz._

_Bzz._

It was around four in the morning when Stiles' phone began rattling against the wood of his bedside table. He groggily forced his eyes open, tapping the screen randomly until Allison's panicked voice reached his ears.

"Stiles, I think found something!" Allison cried. When the words had actually managed to register with Stiles' still-awakening brain, they hit him like a splash of freezing water.

"Wha..?" he mumbled. "Wha'd you find…?"

"An Aswang, a shapeshifting monster from Filipino folklore, it can turn into a bear, a boar, a cat or a bird," Allison gasped.

"So?" Stiles snapped, irritated. The prints at the scene hadn't been bear, boar, cat _or _bird.

"Its most common form is a dog," Allison added quickly. _That _got Stiles' attention.

"What else did you find?" he sat up straight in his head, ears straining to hear Allison over the shitty speaker of his phone.

"Not much, an Aswang was apparently a pretty rare find," Allison sighed. "I did find something, though."

"What?!" Stiles practically shouted into the phone.

"If an Aswang doesn't feed for several days or weeks… They'll die," Allison stated plainly.

"Why do I have a feeling they don't eat McDonalds?" Stiles groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Because they eat unborn children."

* * *

It'd been several days since her last human feeding and Samira was on edge. Anyone who spoke to her was guaranteed a snappy comment or remark. She poked her hamburger with one finger before turning back to her book. It was a shorter form of a bestiary, but it focused mainly on shapeshifting creatures. Samira had been particularly interested in a chapter on vampire and Aswang feeding habits, but before she could even flip to the dog-eared page, her finely-tuned hearing picked up on hushed whispers coming from the table next to her.

"Why don't we go to Derek?" a familiar voice hissed. _Scott._

"Because he's _Derek," _Stiles snapped. _Who's Derek? _Samira wondered.

"Well, what about Deaton?" another voice asked, this one female. Samira cast a short glance at the whispering group. The voice belonged to a brunette with large, doe-like brown eyes.

"What about him?" an unfamiliar voice questioned. Samira looked over again, the voice came from a tall boy with blazing blue eyes, curly blond hair and a jaw that could cut steel.

"He deals with werewolves, werewolves are shapeshifters. Maybe he'll know something about the killer," the brunette shrugged.

"If he knows something, why wouldn't he tell us?" another female voice asked. Her tone oozed with sarcasm and sass. Samira watched the group out of the corner of her eye, the one who'd spoken was a petite strawberry blond with ruby-red lipstick.

"He's _Deaton," _Stiles sighed. "He's… Cryptic. Maybe he's waiting for us to go to him?"

Samira could feel panic trickling into her veins. She'd known Deaton for a little over a week, she'd bet her life that Scott and his friends had known Deaton for _much, much _longer. Would he tell them he knew who was doing the killing?

* * *

The bell above the door to the vet's office tinkled, signaling to Deaton that someone had enter. He looked up, not surprised in the least. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Allison and Isaac all barged through the door. Deaton furrowed his eyebrows at them, feigning confusion. He knew they'd come, he just didn't know when.

"The killings. Do you know anything?" Stiles blurted. Deaton's heart jumped slightly.

"It depends on what you're asking for," Deaton stated.

"_Anything! _Anything about who or what's doing the killing, how do we _stop _it?" Stiles snapped.

"I don't know much," Deaton lied. Allison stepped forward, brandishing a leather-bound book.

"What do you know about this?" she asked, poking a page with her index finger. Just as Deaton had suspected, it was a page on Aswangs.

"An Aswang is a shapeshifting vampiaric creature from Filipino folklore. It's usually depicted as a were-dog. They take the form of a dog at night, eating unborn fetuses and small children. If an Aswang goes without eating, he or she will grow progressively weak until they feed again, and if they go too long without eating, they'll die," Deaton shrugged.

"Do Aswangs appear as ordinary people?" Isaac asked. Deaton gave a simple nod of his head.

"That's how they go about their lives, to avoid suspicion," he answered.

"How can you identify an Aswang?" Lydia spoke up from the back of the group, raising her eyebrows. Deaton bit down on his tongue. The answer to the very question he'd just been asked could give Samira away for good.

"It's difficult. If you can get close to an Aswang when they're irritated, if they speak, you'll hear a faint clicking noise, like the sound of a pen," Deaton shrugged. "I'm afraid that's all my knowledge on the subject."

* * *

The group was once again gathered around a lunch table, casting dark glances in Samira's direction.

"She doesn't exactly seem friendly…" Lydia muttered.

"How do we get close to an unfriendly, loner of a girl, who's possibly a homicidal shapeshifting creature and then _prove _she's a homicidal shapeshifting creature?" Stiles grumbled. A faint smirk rested on Isaac's lips.

"Put her on the spot," he exclaimed. Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. "Ask her to go somewhere with you, do something, put her on the spot in front of a group of people. If she says no, she'll look more suspicious than she already does and look like the bad guy. Get close to her, be her friend, see how long it takes until she slips up or we prove her innocent," Isaac shrugged. Stiles' mouth opened slightly in awe.

"Since when did you become the smart guy?" Stiles asked, blinking. Lydia kicked him sharply under the table.

"Rude," she snapped.

"The question is, who's going to be the one to ask her out?" Scott questioned. All eyes turned toward Stiles. A strangled cry-like noise fell from his throat.

"Me? _W-hy?" _he grumbled.

"I'm already with Allison," Isaac shrugged. Scott was silently outlawed, everyone in the group was well aware that he was still mourning his break up with Allison. Stiles' glare flew over everyone at the table.

"I hate you for this, so, so much!" he snapped. He chose to abandon his lunch tray in case Samira decided to thwack him over the head with it. He studied her for a moment. She was currently engrossed in a leather-bound book, the same one she'd been reading a few days ago. Bracing himself, Stiles forced his legs to move. He walked slowly over to her, feeling the stares of Scott, Lydia, Allison and Isaac burning into his back. "Um… Samira?" he asked quietly. Irritation flowed from the girl as she turned to regard him with narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows.

"Stiles," she muttered, looking him up and down. "What'da you want?"

"I was… Um…" Stiles' hand flew to the back of his neck.

"Spit it out," Samira snapped.

"I was wondering if you'd wanna come over and watch a movie… Or something, anything works, really, I mean we could go get something to eat, or go on a walk, or go to the—" Stiles rambled. Samira's left hand flew up, silencing him.

"I'd love to," she flashed him an award-winning smile, her tone the cheeriest it'd been since she met the boy. She even had herself fooled.

"Great… Ah… Does after school work?" Stiles' hand moved from his neck to his head.

"Sure," Samira shrugged.

"I'll pick you up after school?"

"It's a date."

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed! I wrote the rest of the outline for this story in math class today and I've got some really good ideas! 3 Love you guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Things are going to start getting good here, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :3! I've made an official page for Shrouded and my future fics, the link can be found in my bio! If you want a better visual of Samira's apartment, the link is on my tumblr!**

* * *

The car had been silent the whole way back to Stiles' house and Samira was mentally kicking herself for agreeing to this date. He pulled the rusty blue jeep up to the driveway, clumsily putting it into a shaky halt. Samira's eyes flickered from his face to her hands, and to the house. Her blood chilled when she saw a white police car stationed in the driveway.

"W-why's there a police car?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"My dad's the sheriff," Stiles shrugged. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Samira lied. She fumbled for the handle of the door, pulling on it a total of four times before finally shoving it open. Stiles raised an eyebrow at her before exiting his car and leading her to the front door. He inserted the key into the lock, twisting it and pushing open the door.

"I'm home, dad," Stiles called out. Samira nervously followed him into the house, her hands shaking as she wrung them together.

"How was school, kiddo?" a warm voice called back. Samira slowly followed Stiles into the kitchen. A man closely resembling Stiles sat at the round kitchen table, smile lines creased his face. Piles upon piles of folders and pictures were splayed across the table. Samira felt her breath catch when she looked closely at the photos. One was taken in pure, bright lighting, the flash of the camera glinting off the puddle of blood surrounding the woman. Her stomach was pulled open into two flaps, showing whoever was viewing the picture where her intestines would have been. Samira forced down a gag, blinking tears from her eyes.

"It was okay," Stiles shrugged. "Dad, this is Samira, Samira, this is my dad," Stiles' amber gaze went from his father, to Samira, and back to his father.

"Hi," Samira gave a small wave.

"Hi," the Sheriff nodded at her.

"C'mon," Stiles nudged Samira's arm, pushing her slightly toward the living room. Samira followed him into the cozy room, flopping onto the couch while Stiles scrolled through Netflix. "Any movie in particular?"

"Mean Girls is always good," Samira shrugged. Stiles mimicked the shrug, searching the movie and pressing play. He took a seat next to her, a little too close for comfort. Samira shifted her feet awkwardly, folding her hands into her lap. Stiles' shoulder barely brushed hers, but it made her strangely uncomfortable. She'd never been overly-touchy or social, getting close to people wasn't a luxury she allowed herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she closely observed Stiles for the first time. He was more attractive than she'd initially thought. Chocolate brown hair swooshed up on the top of his head, it was obvious he'd grown it out, but it wasn't a bad look for him. His eyes were large and doe-like, a deep-seated brown with small flecks of amber and gold scattered here and there.

"Like what you see?" Stiles snickered. Samira blushed, tearing her gaze away from him, furious he'd caught her staring.

"I don't see much," she joked, nudging him with her elbow.

"Mhm," Stiles smirked, turning back to the movie. It was barely ten minutes in when Stiles yawned, stretching his arms above his head. Samira silently prayed he wasn't going to drop his arm over her, but her prayers went unanswered as he did exactly that. His fingers slowly dragged up and down her arm, sending chills scattering her spine. She did her best to focus on the movie, the Plastics were performing Jingle Bell Rock on the screen, but all Samira could focus on was Stiles' hand, which was inching slowly toward her leg. She ignored his hand on her knee, keeping her gaze locked on the screen. Warmth was slowly spreading through her body, but she felt fireworks when Stiles' hand slipped onto her thigh. Her eyes closed for a moment before she mentally slapped herself. _No._

"What're you doing?" Samira snapped, turning to glare at him, heart racing. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly.

"I thought you were enjoying that?" his eyes widened with shock and guilt.

"You thought wrong," Samira growled. As soon as she'd said the words, Samira silently questioned herself. _Did he really?_

"Sorry…" Stiles whispered, retracting his arm from around her shoulder. Samira scooted a few inches down the couch, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her knees. Her shoulders felt cold, her whole body felt chillier than it had a few moments ago. She suddenly longed to move next to Stiles again. Samira's nails dug crescent-shaped grooves into her palms. Her _number one rule _when she moved to a new town was, _don't make connections. _Her life had been about survival from the day she was born, and she wasn't about to change her rules after seventeen years. After an agonizing thirty minutes of silence, the movie ended. Samira stood as soon as the credits rolled. Stiles stood with her, awkwardly jingling his keys.

"I'm sorry I snapped…" Samira said quietly. "It's nothing personal, I was just a little surprised," she added.

"It's okay," Stiles shrugged, giving her a reassuring smile. In silence, they walked through the kitchen and out of the front door. They were instantly soaked to the skin, freezing rain pounding their heads. Sprinting to the cover of Stiles' jeep, Samira practically dived inside and slammed the door shut. Stiles followed suit. The drive commenced in silence, the silence only being broken once when Samira directed him around a turn.

"So why'd you come to Beacon Hills…?" Stiles finally asked.

"Family problems," Samira sighed, her tone ending the conversation.

* * *

A long thirty minutes later, Stiles and Samira sat quietly in his jeep, both staring out into the pouring rain, separate thoughts racing through their heads. A pit of intense hunger had been gnawing a hole in Samira's stomach for the past hour, her vision was starting to swim.

"Thanks for the ride," she turned to Stiles, smiling a little. He smiled back.

"Any time," he grinned. Samira turned to get out of the car, but when she noticed Stiles mimicking her actions, she turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"What're you doing?" she tilted her head.

"I was going to walk you in…" he furrowed his eyebrows at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If that's okay?"

"Um… I'll be okay," Samira gritted her teeth.

"Samira… Its dark and its pouring rain. There is no way in _hell _that I'm letting you go by yourself," Stiles snapped. Rolling her eyes so hard it hurt, Samira shoved open the car door and stormed out into the rain, Stiles hurrying after her.

"I can handle myself," she insisted as they approached the building.

"I can't _believe _you live here," Stiles was still in awe. It was one of the most high-class buildings in California.

"I couldn't believe it either, at first," Samira shrugged. They walked through the sliding glass doors into a brilliant lobby. Samira led Stiles toward the elevator. The woman at the reception desk raised her eyebrows, giving a friendly wave and a wink toward Samira, who shook her head, laughing. The sliding door to the elevator opened with a _ding! _Stiles followed Samira, mouth open in a small 'o' of shock. Samira pressed in the '40' button with one perfectly-manicured nail. Slowly, the elevator climbed. Stiles leaned against the wall of the elevator until another sharp ding signaled that they'd arrived. Exiting the elevator, Samira led Stiles silently out of the elevator and down a short hall, passing almost seven doors before reaching her. When she unlocked the door, Stiles' jaw completely unhinged.

"How in the hell?" he gasped. "How can you afford this?" his eyes widened. The apartment, despite its size, was stunning. The stone floors were a beautiful ashy-white, they matched the walls in some places, in the places they didn't, and dark, chocolate-brown wood replaced them. A small, charcoal-colored granite counter was directly to his left, a glass bowl of apples sitting on its surface. A white leather sectional sat about ten feet from him, brown pillows set along the sides. A soft-looking brown throw-blanket was folded across the back of the couch. A white, low-set wooden coffee table was placed in front of the couch, fashion magazines folded on top of it. Sheer white curtains draped across massive windows, blocking outside view. A flatscreen TV was set in a massive built-in shelf in the wall. A dark-chocolate colored door with a silver handle rested just to the right of the TV. A rounded glass table with eight white leather chairs surrounding it sat a few feet behind the couch. To say that the apartment was stunning was an understatement.

"I inherited it," Samira hung her keys on a hook by the door. "Thanks for the ride," she turned to face Stiles with a happy grin.

"No problem," he answered back. "Talk to you tomorrow?" he raised his eyebrows innocently.

"Um…" Samira trailed off. _Don't make connections. _"Maybe," she shrugged. Stiles turned to walk back down the hall and Samira closed the door as quickly and as quietly as she could. Her hunger was making her dizzy, but there was nothing she could do about it, not tonight at least. With a sigh, she kicked off her beige heels and stumbled tiredly over to the couch, collapsing onto the soft leather surface, dragging the brown throw-blanket with her.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm having mixed feelings on it, what do you guys think?**


	6. Chapter 6

**I hope you guys love this chapter! Samira and Harris have a **_**past, **_**to say the least XD. I wanted to lighten up this story a little, both with the Harris scene and the Derek scene, I hope you enjoy! WARNING: The first scene in this chapter contains intense violence and may be a little triggering.**

* * *

"It's spiraling down,  
Biting words like a wolf howling,  
Hate is spitting out each other's mouths,  
But we're still sleeping like we're lovers."

**Still by Daughter**

* * *

The massive dog lurked quietly in the bushes, watching the heavily pregnant woman approach her car. Just before she opened the car door, the dog let out a loud bark, drawing the woman's attention. She turned to face the dog, eyebrows raised. Samira trotted toward her innocently, tail thumping against the ground. The woman tentatively reached out and patted her on the head. Quick as a bullet, Samira's jaws locked around the woman's wrist, biting down. The woman cried out as Samira tackled her to the ground, canines ripping through her shirt. Samira sank her fangs into the woman's fleshy stomach, shaking her head violently back and forth, sending a spray of blood across the pavement. The woman's screams rang out as she thrashed against Samira. The pressure on her body was crushing, she could feel the air wrenching from her lungs. Her flesh burned and ached as the dog ripped into her. Then it stopped. The dog looked into her eyes for a second, blood-red orbs burning into hers. The dog released its hold on her, stepping over her body and leaning over her throat. With a snarl, Samira sank her teeth into the woman's throat. A gasp gurgled from her throat before she went still.

* * *

Every head in the room turned toward the door as a figure slowly opened it. Stiles' eyebrows raised. Samira was late, _again. _Mr. Harris arched a brow at her.

"Miss. Praslin, are you aware that the class period has already begun, and you are just now arriving?" he snapped in a clipped tone, glaring at her from behind his glasses. Each and every teen in the room exchanged glances, well-aware of Samira and her fiery personality.

"I'm _well-aware," _Samira sneered, glaring back at the teacher.

"Miss. Praslin, is there any _particular reason_ you're late?" Harris gave her a smug look. Samira's eyebrows arched in a way that could only mean one thing, coming from a teenage girl. _Oh, really?_

"Mr. Harris, is there any _particular reason _I ran into you walking into a strip club with an eighteen year old two weeks ago?" Samira barked loudly, smirking. The teacher's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Gasps and snickers rang out around the classroom. "That's what I thought," Samira snarled, marching to her desk and plopping down, ignoring the stares from around the room. Harris, after regaining his composure, began to explain something no one in the class could understand or cared to know. Samira was busy studying the cracked red polish on her middle finger when a tiny, balled up piece of paper landed in front of her. She glanced around the room, everyone was either staring at Harris or staring blankly at their desk. Samira picked up the tiny paper, unfolding it in her lap. She smoothed it out, raising a single dark eyebrow at the single word written in green ink on the paper.

_Lunch?_

Samira's eyes darted around the room, looking for the green pen. When her eyes passed over Stiles, she grinned a little at the green ink pen he held in his right hand. Samira quickly scribbled her answer before flicking the paper back at Stiles. It landed on his desk and he unfolded it, smiling at the three letter word she'd written. _Yes_.

* * *

Stiles had been anxiously awaiting lunch, practically diving out of his seat at the final bell. He found Samira at her usual table, sitting alone. He frowned slightly at that, besides her fiery personality, the girl was rather nice. He walked over, sitting down beside her, grinning. She was scribbling something on a notepad and she jumped slightly when he sat down next to her. Her hand slid to cover the sloppy writing strewn across the notepad and Stiles' eyebrows raised.

"Whatcha' writing?" he pointed at the notepad.

"Just something I wanted to remember," Samira shrugged. She pushed the notepad away from him a few inches and leaned over it, blocking his viewpoint. Stiles ungracefully shoved half a chicken finger in his mouth.

"Sho why 'er oo ate tho clash thish morning?" Stiles garbled around a mouthful of food. Samira gave him a disgusted look.

"One, don't talk with your mouth full," Samira reprimanded, narrowing her eyes. "And two, I was having car trouble," she shrugged. She mentally slapped herself as soon as the words popped out of her mouth. _She didn't own a car. _

"Car trouble?" Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Didn't know you had a car," he added.

"Yeah…" Samira mumbled. "I have to get to my next class, talk to you later," Samira said quietly, getting up and walking briskly away from the table. Stiles noticed an opened sheet of notebook paper and a pen.

"Hey, Samir—" Stiles called out, but it was too late. He picked up the notepad, glancing it over before shoving it into his bookbag.

* * *

He'd been anxious to get home and read what Samira had been keeping such a secret. When Stiles walked through the door, he was greeted by the sight of his dad leaning over the kitchen table, a new stack of files spread out around him.

"Another murder?" Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, this one in broad daylight…" his dad muttered, shaking his head. "It doesn't make any sense, we've found canine prints at the scene, but why would an animal be going after _only _pregnant women and their children?" he sighed. Stiles was silent. He backed toward the stairs before running to his room and closing the door. He pulled the notepad out of his bag, flipping to the first page. He was met with black scribbles and squiggles, it was impossible to make out anything Samira had written. As he flipped through the notepad, Stiles realized all the pages were covered in the same array of scribbles and scratches. He cursed under his breath, flipping to the last page. _Aha. _The last page was perfectly unmarred, except for one line. Stiles read it carefully, raising his eyebrows slowly. Samira had written down a list of addresses, some with stars by them, some with strange bullet points and notes. The addresses looked familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Stiles spun his swivel chair around, intent on going to get his MacBook off his bed, but instead coming face to face with a glowering face, all green-eyes and eyebrows.

"Holyshitsonofabitch!" Stiles shouted, flailing and tumbling out of his chair. "What the hell, man?" he snapped.

"Where'd you get the notepad?" Derek snarled. _Oh, shit. _

"I found it on the ground," Stiles lied. Derek backed off slightly.

"Let me see," he snatched it from Stiles, flipping through it. "Stiles, _where _did you find this?" he sighed, shaking his head.

"I found it on the ground," Stiles repeated. "Why? What's so important about it?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Look up this address," Derek tapped the first, slightly scratched out, but still legible. Stiles got up from the floor, going over to his bed and sitting down. He grabbed the notepad back from Derek, typing the address into Google. Article upon article materialized before his eyes.

"_Pregnant woman brutally murdered," _Stiles slowly read the first headline, eyes blowing wide with shock.

* * *

***dun dun dunnnnn***

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, if you did, drop me a review! Love ya!**


	7. Chapter 7

***sheepish wave* Um… Sowwy? I know I haven't updated for months and I feel really bad.. I have cookies? *Gives basket of cookies* I've been really sick and dealing with some personal stuff and just haven't had time to update, which is why I'm making it up to you with not only a new chapter but a bunch of new stuff! I'm going to leave Head Over Hate on hiatus until I've finished writing Shrouded and the possible Shrouded sequel. I'm also working on a blog for my fics, revamping my polyvore, my Grooveshark and 8tracks, and those should all be done within this week or maybe even today. I had to delete my other tumblr because of some personal issues. I'm probably not going to be updating anything for a few weeks, at least until school gets out (nineteen days, whoop!) but after school gets out, I'm going to go back and revamp some of my previous fics and maybe even start a new one! I'm working on the plot base for Watchful Eyes and if you guys want, once I'm completely done with the Shrouded series, I might bring back Missing Link and Fairytale! If you want me to bring Missing Link or Fairytale back, drop a review! I understand that this story might conflict with Allison's France trip, so just to clear up, she hasn't gone to France **_**yet, **_**but she will after the end of this story. Lastly, I found Samira's name with multiple searches for names that meant **_**death **_**or **_**darkness **_**and came across Samira on yahoo answers, so if I get the name meaning wrong, I'm sorry XD. I hope you enjoy this chapter, ilysm bbs!**

* * *

"Shit…" Stiles cursed. "I knew it!" he shouted and slammed his fists onto his desk, standing up and running a hand through his hair. Derek shook his head.

"We can't just jump on the first thing we see.. We need more evidence.." Derek said quietly.

"Call Argent!" Stiles' arms flailed, eyes wide.

"No." Derek answered.

"_Why the hell not?!" _Stiles shouted.

"Because if we tell him Samira's the one killing people, he's gonna go put an arrow through her chest and we're gonna have killed an innocent girl!" Derek snapped. Stiles' eyes widened more and he shook the notepad in Derek's face.

"Innocent? You call this _innocent?" _Stiles sneered. When Derek was silent, Stiles let out an exasperated sigh and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm callin' Scott."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Scott knocked on Stiles' door. His best friend practically dragged him upstairs, slamming the door behind them. Stiles shoved the notepad in Scott's face and pointed to his MacBook.

"She's the killer!" Stiles stated, eyes flicking from Scott to the notepad.

"Stiles…" Scott began, "The notepad is incriminating, but it doesn't mean Samira's the killer… Maybe she's interested in figuring out who it is too?"

"Ugh," Stiles muttered. "Fine. I'm keeping my eye on her, though."

* * *

The next morning at school, Samira was partially avoiding Stiles and partially hoping he'd come over to talk to her. But mostly avoiding. After arriving late to their shared class, kept slightly longer than she expected with feeding, she kept her head down and didn't say a word. She was regretting her decision to allow him to know where she lived, he was already suspicious. At lunch, Samira sat alone for what could've been three or so minutes, picking at her unappetizing pizza, before five people surrounded her at all sides. It was Stiles, Scott, the brunette girl and the redhead girl and, finally the blonde.

"Hi," the brunette gave her a warm smile. "I'm Allison," she introduced herself quickly and raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

"I'm… Samira…" the Aswang answered, slightly confused by such a warm welcome. Scott introduced the redhead, who seemed displeased at being forced to sit next to Samira, as Lydia and the blonde boy as Isaac.

"So how long've you lived in Beacon Hills?" Isaac inquired, taking a bite of pizza and carefully eyeing Samira.

"About a month or two," Samira shrugged.

"Why'd you move here?" Scott questioned. Samira was taken aback.

"What's that supposed mean?" she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"You mean you don't know?" Stiles asked, annoyed and slightly shocked.

"Know _what?" _Samira's eyebrows raised.

"There've been like, two serial killers in this town already and now there's another one!" Stiles snapped. "It's dangerous to be out here without knowing that stuff, you know."

"I didn't know there were two others, I only knew about this one," Samira shrugged innocently. They all ate their meals in awkward silence after that, exchanging small talk about the weather, lacrosse team and the crappy school food.

"But back to it, why _did _you move here?" Allison asked finally. Samira had a feeling the conversation would wander back here.

"Family trouble," she shrugged.

"What happened?" Isaac asked.

"My mom died," Samira said quietly. It wasn't a _lie, _she'd just left out the part about her mother being shot through the throat by hunters.

"I'm sorry.." Allison touched her shoulder gently. Samira smiled at that, genuinely smiled, a wave of affection rushing over her for Allison and her sweetness.

"What about your dad?" Stiles queried, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Samira's eyes flickered down.

"I never knew him," she mumbled. "He died before I was born," she quickly added, eager to change the subject. Luckily, Lydia knew how to do exactly that.

"Samira," she said loudly, grabbing the other girl's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Allison and I were wondering if you had plans this weekend?"

* * *

And that's how Samira was talked into going shopping with two girls she barely knew. They'd been at the mall for hours, Lydia forcing both of them to try on things they either hated, loved, or never bought. Lydia talked Allison into purchasing a cute floral dress and some black ankle boots. Samira however, was a different story. Lydia had grown fond of her and, despite resistance, had insisted on revamping Samira's look. By the time the girls had finished shopping and were headed to Allison's, Samira was loaded down with three pairs of black skinny jeans, a white elephant-striped crop-top, too many pairs of black high-heels, a beanie and a black-and-white eyeshadow palette Lydia had _not _let her leave the store without. They made a unanimous decision to stop at a small burger joint just outside of town, all of them starving.

"So, you and Stiles?" Allison asked, wiggling her eyebrows and taking a small bite of her burger. Samira gagged on her double bacon cheeseburger, giving Allison wide eyes.

"Me? And Stiles?" she coughed. "You're kidding, right?" she took a large gulp of her soda.

"Don't deny it," Lydia laughed, nudging her with her elbow. "You totally had sex with him, didn't you!" she grinned jokingly.

"Ew! No!," Samira gave her a disgusted look. _Sex? _With _Stiles? How about never. _

"Then you have a thing for him!" Lydia said quickly.

"I don't," Samira answered. "He's just a friend," she took another bite of her burger, this time without coughing.

"Said every lying girl in ever clichéd teen movie _ever," _Lydia giggled. "If you don't like him, why'd you go on a date with him? To his house?" she asked in mock-suspicion with a slight undertone of suggestiveness. _Shit… _

"I dunno… I thought I'd try to make some friends around here," Samira shrugged. _Liar, _she mentally chastised herself. _You know the real reason you went on that date. _

"With a cute bo-oy!" Lydia hummed quietly, shaking her head at Samira's denial.

"Leave her alone, Lyds," Allison chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"That's too bad…" Lydia said quietly. Samira's eyes snapped up.

"What..?" Samira's eyebrows slowly raised.

"You and Allison are going to the movies thursday night," Lydia innocently sipped her drink. Allison stared at her food, suddenly not hungry. Samira's eyebrows furrowed.

"So?" Samira asked, eyebrows raised.

"With Stiles and Isaac."

* * *

The three girls had gotten back to Allison's house around eight, and to say Samira was anxious for the girls to fall asleep was an understatement. Allison let them in the house with a key, pushing open the door and shutting it behind them. They were headed up the stairs when they were stopped abruptly.

"Allison," a deep voice called. Allison turned, along with Lydia and Samira.

"Hey dad," she smiled. A man with greying brown hair and sad blue eyes stood by the entrance to the kitchen.

"Who's your new friend?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, um.. Dad, this is Samira, Samira, this is my dad, Chris," Allison made a gesturing hand motion from Samira to her father.

"That's an interesting name," Chris remarked. "Any meaning behind it?" he asked innocently. Samira shrugged.

"According to my mom, it means death and darkness," Samira sighed. When she received quizzical stares from everyone in the room she shook her head. "My dad was a really morbid person."

"Makes sense," Lydia shrugged. Chris simply stared at Samira and she stared back.

* * *

Six hours later, Samira had convinced herself that she'd have to break her _don't make connections _rule, as she had grown fond of Allison and Lydia. Lydia had told a particularly hilarious story about the first time she got drunk and Samira and Allison were in tears.

"D-did you ser-" Allison wheezed, breaking off into peals of laughter. Samira was rolling around on Allison's bed, holding her sides and cackling loudly. Her laughter cut off into a gasp when a sharp stabbing pain shot through her abdomen. She clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut. Allison's laughter silenced along with Lydia's.

"You okay?" Lydia asked, concern blossoming in her dark green eyes.

"Cramps," Samira lied. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed! I'd love feedback on this story and how I'm doing 3!


	8. Chapter 8

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, I hope it isn't too cliché or anything!**

* * *

_Another step, and I've learned to hold my breath,_  
_Still scared to want you,_  
_I'll be the mess, you be the medicine._

_Icon For Hire - Fix Me_

* * *

_Thursday._

The day Samira had been dreading and anticipating all the same. Lydia had dressed her in a black t-shirt with a white heart in the middle, white jeans and black ankle boots. Samira had mixed feelings for the preppy look, all this for a _movie? _ Stiles was picking them all up in his jeep, his first stop being Samira's house. A knocking at the door signaled his presence. Samira sighed, checking her pink lipstick in the mirror one last time for any sign of blood. She was paranoid, she'd gotten back from an animal feeding only thirty minutes earlier and her cravings were getting hard to control. She preened over her appearance for one more moment before grabbing her black-and-white bag and opening the door. Her eyebrows raised in shock. Stiles looked.. Samira searched silently for a word to describe him at the moment. _Good? Cute? Hot? _She'd never thought she'd be so affected by a black hoodie and jeans. Rain droplets sparked in Stiles hair and he smiled. _Hot? _ She shook away the thought, smiling back. She stepped past him and out the door. They continued down the hall in silence for a moment.

"You haven't been at school for two days.." Stiles finally murmured.

"I haven't been feeling well," Samira shrugged. It was, for once, the full truth. She'd been sick since leaving Allison's house and finally forced herself to take a few days off. Stiles pushed the down button on the elevator, both of them waiting anxiously for the _ding! _

"You sure you're feeling okay to go out tonight?" Stiles asked, genuine concern and curiously touching his voice.

"I'm okay," Samira said softly. _Lie. _She was definitely _not _okay. She was _starving, _she wanted to make a call to Deaton, she was praying that she wouldn't be caught before she could leave Beacon Hills, and her breaking of her _don't make connections _rule was getting to her. The elevator doors opened with a _ding. _Samira practically rushed onto them, pressing the first floor button anxiously. Stiles followed quickly, pressing the close button. The doors slid shut and their descent began. They'd made it to the 37th floor when a loud clap of thunder rattled the elevator. Samira froze, eyes widening a little.

"We'll be fine," Stiles reassured. Right after he said it, as if waiting for a cue, the lights flickered off and the elevator froze. The two teenagers stood in silence for a moment. "Well… Shit," Stiles cursed. Samira pulled out her phone, tapping the flashlight. She made her way over to the _call _button and pressed it repeatedly.

"What's your emergency?" a monotone voice flooded through the elevator speakers.

"Currently stuck in an elevator," Samira answered, sighing.

"Is there any light in the elevator?" the voice asked.

"Besides our phones, no," she muttered.

"Is there someone else in the elevator with you?" the operator questioned.

"My friend," Samira grumbled.

"Please hold," the operator said before the line went silent. It was quiet for a few moments before the operator returned.

"You said there's someone else in the elevator with you, correct?" the operator questioned.

"Yeah," Samira leaned against the elevator wall, rolling her eyes.

"Unfortunately, it may be a while before our engineers can come and get you, the storm knocked power out all over the place. Just sit tight and stay calm until they get to you," the operator answered.

"Thanks," Samira snapped, taking her finger off the call button. She slumped down the elevator wall, cursing silently.

"I guess we're here for a while," Stiles sighed, sitting down beside her.

"Yep…" she mumbled, staring at the floor. They sat in silence for what may have been fifteen minutes before a question pressed itself to the top of Stiles' brain.

"Hey, what happened to your parents?" he asked, turning to look at Samira now that his eyes had adjusted.

"My dad left my mom about two months after they got married, according to my mom he didn't want to live like he was living with her, so he up and left. Haven't heard from him except once or twice on my birthday. My mom.." Samira trailed off, hoping her next words weren't going to give anything away. "She was murdered… And then I went into foster care and to a court hearing and they agreed to let me live on my own, but a _'legal' _guardian or social worker has to check up on me once a month or so," Samira whispered.

"Damn… I'm sorry," Stiles touched her shoulder.

"Thanks," she looked at him through the darkness. "What about your mom?" she questioned.

"Died when I was ten…Frontotemporal dementia…" Stiles murmured.

"I'm sorry," Samira touched his shoulder in return. They allowed silence to slide over them once again, but it was broken by the chattering of Samira's teeth.

"Are you as cold as I am?" Stiles grumbled.

"Yeah," Samira muttered.

"It's only gonna get worse, we're gonna be here for a few hours," Stiles sighed quietly. Before Samira could protest, he'd scooted closer and dropped his arm around her, pulling her into his side. He didn't _seem _cold, body heat radiated from him like a furnace, but the chattering of his teeth stated otherwise. Samira curled in closer to him, putting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. _This is nice._

* * *

Samira's green eyes blinked sleepily open, her back and legs slightly stiff.

"Huhwha?" she mumbled, confused as to where she was. When she realized she was sitting with her arms wrapped around another person, it hit her full force. "Wha time issit?" she slurred, yawning.

"Around one in the morning," Stiles whispered.

"We leff at eight right?" Samira mumbled.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when they get here," Stiles patted her shoulder.

"You've been up for five hours," Samira whispered. "Go to sleep too," she added. Her eyes closed and she settled back into the warmth of Stiles' shoulder. _Don't get used to it, _her brain chastised. She listened to the gentle beating of Stiles' heart against her ear, unable to fall back asleep. A sharp stab of hunger pulsed through her stomach and she groaned.

"You okay?" Stiles blinked at her.

"I'm just hungry," Samira muttered. Her chances of going back to sleep were slim to none, but she might as well try.

* * *

A hand on Samira's shoulder jostled her from her restless sleep. An unfamiliar face loomed over her and she jumped a little, waking up Stiles on accident. A firefighter leaned over her and held out his hand. _Took you damn long enough. _Samira stood on her own, brushing herself off.

"Thank you," she nodded at the firemen before pushing past and marching up the stairs, not waiting for Stiles. Her throat was dry and her stomach lining felt like it was eating itself_. _She could hear his footsteps behind her as she neared the 40th floor. Finally, the sleepy teen caught up to her as she was unlocking her apartment door. He followed her inside, practically dead on his feet. She grabbed his hand and marched him over to her bedroom.

"What're you doing?" Stiles stopped walking, eyebrows arched.

"We're going to sleep, duh," Samira shrugged.

"But in your room?" Stiles didn't move when Samira tugged on his hand. She turned to him with raised eyebrows and folded arms.

"Do you want to sleep on a cold leather couch, or in a warm bed?" she grumbled.

"Bed. I choose bed."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Five minutes later, Stiles had changed into a pair of Samira's ex's sweatpants and she into a pair of gray shorts and a blue tank top. She'd piled pillows down the middle of the bed, dividing it into halves. She pointed to the left side of the bed.

"Yours."

She pointed to the right.

"Mine. No crossing the pillow boundary," she climbed into the bed, her alarm clock flashing _3:10 AM. _Stiles settled down on his side of the bed.

"Hey, Samira?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

Ooh, things have begun to heat up :3 Did you enjoy? Lemme know! 3


	9. Chapter 9

**What'd you think of the last chapter? I'm starting to think there might be a lil something something with Samira and Stiles ;). I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do! I love you guys so much! :) The links for all my social media involving TW and my fics are in my bio!**

* * *

_Take me to the other side__  
__Cause my hands are as cold as ice__  
__Leave a heart-shaped hole in my chest__  
__As the thoughts of you leave my head_

_And you're my storm__  
__I can't compete__  
__And I'm forlorn__  
__I'm moving only on your breeze__  
__And I-I-I-I-I-I-I'll never be free__  
__And I-I-I-I-I-I-I'll never be free_

_When I've got nothing left to lose__  
__I wonder what I'll find__  
__Without the simple sight of you__  
__To give me peace in mind_

_Medicine by Broods_

* * *

The young Aswang couldn't control her instincts. She watched the cop from the bushes, he was sitting idly in his patrol car, headphones jammed in his ears, oblivious to the world. The dog slunk around behind his car and around the side of the house. She scratched the screened-in porch with one paw, creating a large slash in the framing. She slipped through it, claws clinking on wood. Of course, the fools were idiotic enough to own a _doggy door_ in this town. She crawled through it with minimal effort, only a small squeeze, before trotting through the house. There were four occupants to the home. A single, expecting mother, her two young children and another young woman, her sister. The large black dog slipped past the children's rooms and trotted up the stairs without a sound. She found the mother's room in seconds, right down the hall and to the left. She paused to observe the sleeping woman for a moment. She felt a pang of sympathy and sadness, but with it, a flash of hunger. There was a cop outside with a gun and a woman just down the hall, this had to be quick and it had to be quiet. The Aswang's jaws locked around the woman's throat and she closed her eyes in sadness before she bit down, killing her instantly. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as it spilled out around her jaws. After removing her teeth from the woman's throat, she set to work, ripping the flesh from the woman's body and devouring her unborn fetus. Bones crackled and snapped. A rush of power coursed through her, tingling in her veins. The dog made a face that could only be taken as a smile before exiting the house and returning home.

* * *

_One day later…_

* * *

Samira kicked back on the couch, sipping a glass of water and watching a rerun of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. She'd made the unplanned decision to skip school that day, not willing to face the many questions she was sure to be given by _everyone. _Promptly a moment after the show had re-entered from commercial break, a knock at her door echoed through the apartment. She got up, padded over to the door and cautiously opened it.

"Oh… Hey…" Samira mumbled. Of course it had it be _Stiles. _Since their unfortunate elevator-incident, the two had been more awkward than usual around each other.

"Uh.. I was just uh… Bringing your homework…" Stiles awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, handing her three papers. Samira took them in shaky hands and awkwardly searched for something to say.

"Thanks…" She muttered.

"Yeah.. Seeya later…" Stiles sighed, turning and walking back down the hall.

"Wait!" Samira called after he was halfway down the hall. Stiles stopped and turned, walking back to her door with raised eyebrows. "Are things gonna be like… This.. From now on?" Samira asked, motioning between the two of them.

"I don't really want them to be… I like talking to you," Stiles grinned a little. "I thought you were mad at me…"

"I'm always mad at you," Samira teased. "Text me later?"

"Always," Stiles gave her a thumbs up. "Show up at school tomorrow?"

"I'll think about it," Samira smiled. "Later." She sighed, shutting the door and inspecting the papers. As she lifted them to her face, something dropped from the middle of the small stack and hid the floor. Samira bent to retrieve it, face paling. _Her notepad. _

"Shit, shit, shit," Samira swore, discarding her homework papers to flip open the notepad. Nothing appeared different, and Stiles hadn't seemed like anything was _wrong. __Does he know?_

* * *

Stiles was driving down the road from Samira's when his phone began to buzz repeatedly against his dash. He answered, one hand still on the wheel.

"Stiles, I found something!" Allison gasped.

"What? What'd you find?" Stiles' jaw dropped slightly. So far, they'd had no luck in any of their searches for information.

"Aswangs are like vampires, which means you can kill them with any method used on killing a vampire. They can also be killed from a whip made entirely of a stingray's tail," Allison rambled.

"Where the hell are we supposed to get that?" Stiles grumbled.

"I'm working on that, but Lydia found something too," Allison added.

"What?"

"There's an amulet, if we hang it on a door and the Aswang tries to go through it, it should repel it like mountain ash," Lydia's voice flooded Stiles' speakers.

"Where the hell are we supposed to get _that?" _Stiles snapped, exasperated. "Can't we just put mountain ash on the floor and see the Aswang can walk over it?"

"That's the thing. In their human form, an Aswang is human, they don't have enough supernatural power to be recognized and rejected by the ash," Allison grumbled.

"_Well then where the hell do we get this amulet?"_ Stiles shouted, fed up with Samira, Allison and Lydia together.

"There was a Filipino family that used to live in Beacon Hills…" Lydia sighed.

"What about them?"

"They were murdered…"

"So?"

"That's where you and Scott come in…"

* * *

And that's how Stiles, Scott and Isaac ended up in a private graveyard at three in the morning with shovels, digging up the grave of a murdered baby while rain pelted their heads, looking for an ancient amulet that was supposed to ward off evil deities and spirits.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Stiles grumbled, stabbing the muddy ground violently with a shovel. "You know, the past repeats itself? What if this isn't a baby grave? What if it's the grave of the upper half of a dead wolf girl who was killed by an angry alph—"

"Stiles!" Scott snapped. Isaac had been silent for most of the time, only speaking once or twice to swear under his breath. They continued to dig in silence, the only sounds made by the shovels scraping against the dirt and mud. It continued this way for almost two hours, the rain soaking the boys to the skin, until Isaac's shovel hit something hard. They began to dig faster until they'd unearthed a small coffin, only a few feet along and a foot or two wide. The three boys exchanged a knowing glance, none of them particularly excited to unearth the being inside the coffin. Using the end of the shovel, they pried up the lid of the coffin. Simultaneously, they all gagged at the awful stench flooding from the coffin, still strong even in the pouring rain. With a hand slapped over his mouth, Scott blindly reached into the coffin. His eyes widened slightly when he touched the baby's bones, but he continued nonetheless. His fingers hooked around a black length of cord and he yanked it out of the coffin before tossing the box of wood back into the ground. Not bothering to inspect the amulet that they'd stolen or even replace the dirt-turned-mud, the three boys abandoned their shovels and scrambled toward the jeep sitting just outside the gate, shoes slipping on mud.

* * *

Samira heard the sirens precisely three minutes before her door began to rattle. She jumped off the couch, running to the door, shocked and a little scared as to who would be knocking on her door with tornado sirens blasting. She looked through the peephole for a moment before yanking open the door, confused, concerned and angry.

"What the _hell?" _she gasped. Stiles, Scott and Isaac stood in her doorframe, dripping puddles onto the floor. Mud slicked them all the way to their knees and they were covered in leaves and dirt. "_What. The. Hell?"_

"We were driving home and uh…" Stiles scratched the back of his neck. "We were listening to the radio and they said that the tornado was near here and to get off the roads and we'd just passed your apartment…"

"I get it. Get inside before someone complains," Samira grumbled, not at all pleased about unexpected guests.

* * *

Samira had helped each boy to a stash of clothing her ex-boyfriend had left at her apartment and never returned for, muttering profanities all the while.

"Couldn't you have _called?" _she snapped at Stiles. "And what's with you and bringing almost-complete-strangers to my apartment?" she threw a pair of sweats at him.

"It was one time…" Stiles raised his hands in defense.

"I don't care," Samira snapped. "I don't care if it was two-hundred times, the next time you decide to bring anyone _besides _yourself to this damn apartment without calling me, I will hunt you down and show a grenade so far _up your ass_ you have to _piss sideways_!" she snarled, poking his chest and forcing him to take a step backward.

"Damn, you have some _serious_ demons," Stiles noted. "And the fact that I'm a good nine inches taller than you makes that whole grenade thing slightly less threatening," he added sarcastically, looking down on her with a smirk.

"Well, you getting stuck at my apartment once because of a storm is fine, but you getting stuck at my apartment _twice _with _two other people _is slightly annoying," Samira hissed. "And height doesn't matter, I will still hunt you down," she muttered, folding her arms and staring back up at him.

"Are we going to be sharing a bed again?" Stiles' smirk grew.

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't," Samira patted his chest before turning and flouncing out the door. She paused in the doorframe. "I have to attend to my _uninvited guests, _so if you'll excuse me."

* * *

Samira had sat the three boys down on her leather couch, glaring at them and pacing in front of the TV like a war general.

"You were _all _uninvited," she pointed at all of them, fixing Stiles with a particularly nasty glare. "I had plans," she added.

"And?" Isaac's eyebrows raised.

"And you've interrupted said plans," Samira snapped. "So after the storm, you'll _all _be doing something for me," Samira's scowl turned into a smirk.

"Oh… God…" Stiles sighed. "What the hell could you possibly want? You live _here! In the most expensive place in Beacon Hills!"_

"I've been needing some housework done. I see you cleaning my apartment as a fair payment for me possibly saving your lives, since you interrupted my _expensive _and extremely important plans," Samira didn't leave any room for discussion. "Stiles, you're gonna be sleeping in my room, Scott, Isaac, couch," Samira pointed to her white sectional and then to her room. All of the boys groaned in protest.

"But—" Scott began

"No buts!" Samira silenced him.

"Why does Stiles get to have the bed?" Isaac muttered.

"Because we've been in this very same situation before and he didn't try to feel me up while I was sleeping, so I trust him more than either of you, and considering I'm unaware of either of your sexual backgrounds, I don't exactly feel comfortable sharing a bed with you," Samira shrugged.

"But Stiles is a—" Isaac began.

"Shut up!" Stiles shouted. Samira laughed.

"I'm well aware," she chuckled, earning hoots of laughter from Isaac and Scott and cries of mock-anguish from Stiles.

"Since when was it so bad to be a virgin?" he grumbled.

"Never said it was bad, just thought it was humorous," Samira grinned.

* * *

Samira and Stiles lay staring at the ceiling, each one lost in their own thoughts. Samira's sharp ears could pick up the whispering of Isaac and Scott in her living room and she was getting slightly annoyed with no way to turn _off _her hearing or tell them to shut up without giving away her supernatural nature. Thunder blasted overhead and the whine of police sirens was driving her mad.

"I can feel your irritancy," Stiles finally rolled over to stare at Samira. The tornado sirens were roaring and rain pelted her window. Samira turned to look at him.

"I've got a lot on my mind," she whispered through the dark. His eyes searched her face for a moment.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Stiles whispered back.

"School, my mom, my siblings, you, the storm, bills, court days coming up and about a million goddamn other things," Samira blurted.

"Me?" Stiles' eyebrows raised. _Shit, I said that, didn't I? _"What about me?"

"Just how goddamn much you confuse the hell outta me all the damn time," Samira grumbled.

"Ah, well, the feeling's mutual," Stiles quipped.

"Ha ha," Samira laughed sarcastically.

"But seriously, you _do_ confuse me," Stiles added. Samira sat up and leaned on one elbow.

"How so?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Well, for one, the way you just _show up _in Beacon Hills without an actual explanation as to why you're here, you live _here, _you're sweeter than Allison one minute and colder than Lydia the next, you show up sometimes, you disappear randomly for no reason, your notepad was the most confusing thing _ever, _you're so open and nice to me and let me sleep in your bed without knowing if I'm going to rape you or something, and then you're ignoring me and not talking to me," Stiles sighed, flopping on his back, exasperated.

"Let me squash some of your confusions. I showed up in Beacon Hills a few months ago because someone killed my mom and I thought they would come after me, so I kept my head down. I have trust issues, which solves about half of your confusions. I disappear because sometimes I feel like I'd be safer and better off if I isolated myself for a while, my notepad is confusing because you don't know the full story and you'd be better off not knowing, and I let you sleep in my bed because I trust you to _not _rape me, I could probably overpower you if you tried, and there's no extra places in my apartment," Samira rambled. Stiles was silent. Samira hadn't realized his closeness, she could feel his warm breath fanning across her face.

"So, trust issues?" Stiles whispered.

"Trust issues," Samira echoed. "I don't trust easy."

"Then why do you trust me?" Stiles said quietly, so quiet that Samira had to strain her supernatural hearing to understand. Samira searched his face, flickering for a moment to his lips before she looked back to his eyes.

"I don't trust you," Samira stated firmly. "I don't trust anyone."

"Bullshit," Stiles scoffed. Samira's eyebrows raised. His gaze searched her face as well.

"Was that a challenge?" Samira jeered.

"Maybe it was," Stiles smirked.

"I don't trust you," Samira shrugged simply.

"Prove it," Stiles commanded. "Look into my eyes and tell me you don't trust me," he grinned through the darkness.

"I. Don't. Trust. You." Samira leaned forward for emphasis, extremely close to his face now.

"Liar," Stiles whispered. They both looked at each other for a moment. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

And then it snapped.

Stiles moved forward, rolling over onto Samira and firmly pressing his lips over hers. Her fingers twirled through his hair as she kissed him back. Stiles' tongue traced her bottom lip and she parted her lips, wrapping her legs around his waist. Somewhere along the way, she'd discarded his shirt and it was thrown somewhere across the room. Samira pulled away for a moment to whisper in his ear.

"I do trust you."

The next morning was an explosion of emotions for Samira. Love for the boy sleeping next to her, hatred for herself, shame, sadness, anger. She couldn't _believe_ she'd just _allowed _herself to sleep with him, she was going to have to leave Beacon Hills and him eventually without any form of explanation as to _why _she was leaving. _I'm basically a supernatural serial killer who kills unborn babies to survive _didn't exactly sound like the best parting message. Samira detached herself from his arms, getting to her feet and going to the window. She looked from a sleeping Stiles and back out at the bustling road of Beacon County.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered to his innocent, sleeping, oblivious form.

* * *

**Ehehehe did that suck as much as I felt like it did? Idk man, what'd you guys think? I think things are abbbbouuuttt to get a lil complicated for our favorite power couple. Hope you enjoy, ilysm!**


	10. Announcement

p style="text-align: center;"strongHey guys... I'm having some pretty bad personal issues right now and my life has been completely thrown off track this week... I don't know when I'm going to update Shrouded again. I need to focus on fixing my wrongs right now and I'm going to try to update at some point but I'm not sure when that'll be. I'm really, really sorry about this, but mentally I just can't deal with it right now. Shrouded is going to be on hiatus until at least next week if not more. Thanks, I hope you guys understand./strong/p 


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